


Creature Comforts

by WritestuffLee



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, M/M, PWP, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-04
Updated: 2003-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritestuffLee/pseuds/WritestuffLee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan replaces Qui-Gon's favorite chair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creature Comforts

**Author's Note:**

> First published in the zine "Domestic Interiors" in 2003.

Obi-Wan added the last of the stock to the pot he was stirring just as the door to their quarters whisked open. _Punctual to the second, nearly,_ he observed, glancing at the chron over the stove. _As always._ Qui-Gon had been overseeing a disaster-relief effort for a little more than eight tens, acting as the Republic liaison between all the agencies and coordinating their efforts, living in a cold, crude, dirty camp amongst frightened and unhappy people; his return schedule had been transmitted home three days ago and Obi-Wan, who had only just arrived home himself  45 hours ago from a much easier mission, had timed dinner to match his former master’s arrival. Barring disasters, Qui-Gon was always on time. As a padawan, Obi-Wan had often joked that one of his master’s many mottos was “Punctuality or death.”

And after eighty-odd days in a miserable temporary shelter, Obi-Wan knew just how much the man would be looking forward to the relative luxuries of his own spare quarters here in temple, no matter how humble. Qui-Gon could endure stoically whatever afflictions the moment held, but he was not above enjoying what amenities he had when he had them. Hence the warm dinner, the bottle of wine chilling on the counter, and a surprise awaiting him in the common room. Obi-Wan listened with a small, sly smile to the familiar sounds of his former master—his lover for the last eight years—ducking beneath the low lintel; to the door hissing closed behind him; to the scuffle of him shedding his boots and then his cloak; and imagined him turning once again to face the room—

Followed by a moment’s silence, then:

“Obi-Wan.”

The tone was calm, but with an upswing at the end of the statement that could signify either an impending explosion or simply the beginning of a reasonable if pointed discussion. Depending on Obi-Wan’s answer. Deliberately forestalling, he fudged his response.

“In here, Qui. Dinner’s nearly ready, but I can’t leave it just at the moment. Come get yourself a glass of wine.”

Moments later, the sense of a large presence filled the room behind him, not exactly bristling, but leaving a prickly, tickling charge in the air. Qui-Gon was not angry, but he was clearly disturbed, and cranky. Whether he had been so before realizing there’d been an unanticipated change in his furnishings was moot now, but Obi-Wan suspected he’d had a frustrating mission and was looking forward to burning off some of that frustration with his lover.

Nonetheless willing to be patient and obeying his former padawan’s wishes, Qui-Gon went to the counter beside Obi-Wan, where the wine stood in the chiller, and silently poured himself a glass, topping up the cook’s as well. A few more moments passed as he engaged in his ritual swirling, sniffing, and tasting. After the first full swallow and an appreciative noise of approval, he leaned down, as Obi-Wan knew he would, and covered the younger man’s mouth with his own, tongue pressing the taste of wine and himself between Obi-Wan’s lips. Obi-Wan drank it down as though it were an elixir of pure love, as it was, never missing a beat in the stirring.

“Mmmmmm, yum. Nevermind the food,” he murmured when they parted, rubbing his cheek against Qui-Gon’s so their beards caught a little.

Qui-Gon returned the gesture, smiling gently and stroking a large hand down Obi-Wan’s back, first cupping then pinching one muscular buttock. Obi-Wan jumped and yelped but continued stirring, now with a smile.

“What have you done with my chair, Padawan?” Qui-Gon growled, biting along Obi-Wan’s neck.

“Not your padawan anymore, Qui-Gon Jinn,” Obi-Wan reminded him in a similar growl. Then, “I’ve replaced it,” he went on, tilting his head to offer more skin for Qui-Gon’s rough attentions. “It was falling apart. The stuffing was all over the floor this morning when I moved it to clean. A few more days and you’d have gone right through the seat.”

“And stores,” _lick_ “has none” _nibble_ “of this particular style” _bite_ “left?”

“I thought you might like something cushier,” Obi-Wan answered weakly, shuddering as his cock hardened against his leggings. Oh, yes. Qui-Gon was in a mood. Not that Obi-Wan minded. Not this sort of mood.

“For my old bones.”

“I didn’t say that—”

“No, but you were thinking it.”

“No, I wasn’t, actually. I was thinking of—other things, when I saw it.”

“Oh? Such as?”

“After dinner. Come and eat.”

“You’re being very mysterious,” Qui-Gon complained, prowling behind him as he filled two plates and turned to the dining table.

“No, it’s just that it wants demonstrating and the food’s ready now. Come sit down. Bring the wine.”

Dinner passed quietly, Qui-Gon visibly putting aside his curiosity and opinions and concentrating on the moment and the pleasures it provided. The meal was simple and yet rich, commanding all his attention: a light, fresh salad; a dish made with creamy grain, dried fruit, nuts, and meat, cooked in the stock and the same wine they were drinking now, making it both sweet and pungent at the same time; hot tea and Qui-Gon’s favorite and amazingly gooey nut pie for dessert.

 

A half hour later, Qui-Gon pushed away his empty dessert plate and wrapped his hands around his warm cup with a contented sigh. “Thank you for the best meal I’ve had since I left here, _kosai_. It was delicious, all of it. Now, please explain what you’ve done with my chair, and why.”

Obi-Wan grinned. “I told you what I did with it. It’s gone off to the recycler. As for why, you’ve only had it since—”

“—about the time you were born.”

“I suspected as much, since it was here the first time I set foot in these quarters and was well-worn then. You were the only one who could ever sit in it because it had molded to the shape of your body.”

“Just the way I liked it. Obi-Wan, it was the most comfortable piece of furniture we own.” Qui-Gon sounded just a tad bit whiny, if that were possible. It was a tone Obi-Wan seldom heard. Petulant, grumpy, annoyed, sulky, but rarely whiny. This must have been a particularly uncomfortable camp and the officials particularly frustrating.

“It was time, love,” Obi-Wan replied, patting his hand as though he were Anakin’s age. “Really, it was falling apart. The springs were going. The bottom had nearly fallen out of it completely. I swear to you that I would not just get rid of your favorite chair arbitrarily.”

Qui-Gon gave him a dubious look. “No, I suppose not,” he agreed, though sounding as if he were not entirely convinced despite his own words. “Unilaterally, yes, but not arbitrarily. And was there some reason you could not replace it with the same model?”

“We could, I suppose. But I saw this one. And I sat in it. And then I got . . . ideas.”

“What sort of ideas?” Qui-Gon asked warily.

Obi-Wan’s grin widened. He reached across the table, took one of Qui-Gon’s hands in his own and pulled his former master to his feet after him, leading him over to the chair. “Let me show you. This is what I meant when I said it needs demonstrating.”

The object in question was a sort of hybrid armchair/longue, deep and wide and upholstered in a soft, fuzzy, pale green material. The armchair portion was styled like a club chair, with heavy rolled arms, the back of it piled with bright thick cushions that invited surrender. The extended seat appeared long enough even for Qui-Gon’s legs. Obi-Wan took his tea from him and pushed him down onto it gently. The cushions sank under his weight but not so much as to be difficult to get up from. Beneath the puffy upholstery was a sturdy frame and set of springs—far sturdier than his old chair, truth be told.

“Sit back,” Obi-Wan said, making shooing motions.

Qui-Gon obeyed, sliding back into it, laying his arms along the chair’s and stretching his legs out in front of him. For once, his feet didn’t dangle off the end as they had even in his old lounger. This was a definite improvement. While it didn’t exactly mold itself to his contours the way the old one had, it was supportive in all the right places and very comfortable, he had to admit. Just sitting in it made him want to sigh contentedly. “It’s a bit wide though, isn’t it? Even for me,” he remarked, not wanting Obi-Wan to think he was completely placated yet.

“That’s one of the things that got me thinking,” Obi-Wan smirked and plopped down next to him. “Scoot over,” he ordered, and slithered in beside Qui-Gon. A moment later, Obi-Wan was snuggled in beside him, comfortably burrowed in between the arm of the chair and Qui-Gon’s side with a large arm around his shoulders.

“Cozier than the sofa, isn’t it?”

“Very much so,” Qui-Gon agreed, smiling, pulling the younger man a little closer and leaning over to kiss him. Obi-Wan tilted his face up and reached to cup Qui-Gon’s cheek. They settled into the kiss, turning toward each other a little in the chair, comfortably pressed together. Qui-Gon’s hands wandered over Obi-Wan’s body in search of bare skin to stroke, slipping inside his tunics. Obi-Wan nipped at Qui-Gon’s lower lip and began to undo his belt and sash. His burgeoning erection had subsided somewhat during dinner, but all it took was the touch of Qui-Gon’s hands and the taste of his mouth to raise the issue again. He opened the older man’s mouth with his tongue and licked along his palate, then moaned as Qui-Gon suckled his tongue.

Without breaking the kiss, he moved to straddle Qui-Gon, knees coming to rest on either side of his lover’s long legs. Obligingly, Qui-Gon’s hands moved down his torso and began to undo Obi-Wan’s belt and sash, as he had done with Qui-Gon’s moments before. Then he was pushing the tunics from Obi-Wan’s shoulders, and Obi-Wan in turn was easing his master’s down Qui-Gon’s arms as he leaned forward.

“One other advantage this has over your old chair, Qui,” Obi-Wan added, dropping their tunics on the floor.

“What’s that?”

“Stainproofing.”

Obi-Wan leaned in again, bracing himself on the arms of the chair, and nuzzled in against the spot beneath his lover’s ear that always sent shivers through him. He nipped and sucked at the skin gently and was rewarded with a moan that echoed his own. Qui-Gon’s hands closed on his ass, then drifted around his waist, opening the fastening of his pants and sliding them down over his buttocks and thighs. Obi-Wan breathed a little sigh against the tender skin of Qui-Gon’s neck as his cock sprang free of the confining cloth.

“Have you entirely given up wearing smallclothes?” Qui-Gon growled.

“Only when I know you’re coming home. They’re just one more thing to take off,” he laughed, leaning back and reaching for the fastenings on Qui-Gon’s trousers. Nimble fingers had them undone in an instant and were sliding them off his lover’s ass as Qui-Gon raised his hips. Leggings still down around his own knees, Obi-Wan first removed his own then slid Qui-Gon’s off the rest of the way, dropping both items onto the pile with the rest.

“You shouldn’t talk, Master,” Obi-Wan mock-scolded. “I must have learnt it from you.”

“Quite possibly. I did my best to teach you to be prepared.”

Obi-Wan leaned forward again, placing his lips next to Qui-Gon’s ear. “Oh, I am. Prepared, that is. For anything you’d like. Would you like to fuck me? Would you like me to suck you?” he whispered and leaned back to watch the reaction. Qui-Gon’s eyes dilated impossibly wide, becoming black pools surrounded by a thin ring of deep blue, and he began, unconsciously, to pant a little. Obi-Wan knew how much he liked hearing those words in his younger lover’s pleasantly cultured voice.

He slid his mouth wetly down Qui-Gon’s neck, breathing hotly against his skin, licking, nipping, marking flesh and the shape of the bones beneath with love bites, working downward. Qui-Gon gasped and clenched his hands in Obi-Wan’s hair as he fastened his teeth on the older man’s nipple and bit and suckled.

“Little gods, _kosai_ ,” Qui-Gon groaned. “It’s been 83 days—”

“Hush, _iji aijinn_ ” Obi-Wan told him. “I’ll take care of you.” He slid back along Qui-Gon’s legs and worked his way between them, pushing them off either side of the chair. Then he leaned down and licked up the long shaft nestled against his lover’s lean belly. Qui-Gon moaned and slid down in the chair, leaning back and closing his eyes, surrendering gratefully. Obi-Wan grinned and went to work.

He licked up the tender skin on the long inside of one thigh, from knee to the crease of hip and torso, gratified by the shudder it induced. Sliding his fingers lightly up the same path on the opposite leg, he leaned in and nuzzled the heavy ball sac, then closed his lips around one testicle and sucked it into his mouth. Qui-Gon cried out, his fingers curling hard into the armrests, muscles tensing. “Oh gods Obi-Wan,” he gasped. “I love your mouth on me.” The younger man  rolled the tender orb there on his tongue for a few moments, listening to the harsh gasps of Qui-Gon’s breathing, before turning his attention to the second testicle. By the time Obi-Wan was finished, both had drawn up tightly against Qui-Gon’s cock and he was squirming in the chair, nearly hyperventilating.

“Enjoying yourself?” Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon’s eyes snapped open, lit with a hot blue fire. “Before you stopped, I was.”

“I’ll just continue on then, shall I?”

“Unless you’d like me to come up out of this chair after you.”

Obi-Wan sat back on his heels. “That might be fun, actually.”

“Not necessarily,” Qui-Gon warned.

“Ah, well,” Obi-Wan sighed in mock despair. “It was just a thought. Back to the spice mines then.” His hand closed on Qui-Gon’s cock before his master could make any more half-jocular threats and the sensation of Obi-Wan’s thumb caressing the head left him quite speechless. He gaped for a moment then settled blissfully back into the chair with a gusty sigh.

Obi-Wan smiled smugly and bent to take the head in his mouth, swirling his tongue where his thumb had been, then applying just a bit of suction. Qui-Gon’s hips jerked up in surprise. Following the long, throbbing vein with his tongue, Obi-Wan licked slowly down then up the underside of the shaft, making Qui-Gon groan like a man in pain. Drops of precum dribbled from the slit. Obi-Wan licked them off and then descended down Qui-Gon’s shaft in one swift movement until it was fully enveloped and halfway down his throat. Then he pulled up, raking lightly with his teeth and letting go with an audible _smack!_ and a wicked grin. Qui-Gon growled and squirmed beneath him, visibly fighting to keep his hands from clenching into Obi-Wan’s hair.

“Obi-Wan!” he snarled.

“Not in the mood to be teased, I see,” the younger man observed. “Very well, My Master.” He covered the crown of Qui-Gon’s cock with his mouth once again, tongue flicking against and licking at the sensitive spot beneath it until his lover was writhing and gasping, then began to move steadily down the long shaft. When his nose was nestled in the dark curls at the base, he moved up again, teeth lightly dragging, and then repeated the motions, slightly faster each time, until Qui-Gon—hips rocking beneath him as he made frantic and incoherent noises—arched his back and came in a hot flood. As he came, Obi-Wan let all but the crown go and swallowed the mouthful of salty fluid and licked his lover clean.

Chest heaving, Qui-Gon lay back in the chair, skin glistening with sweat, eyes half-closed, body boneless, as Obi-Wan stroked his hands up and down the long thighs. “Wonderful,” he said finally, sighing, and sitting up a little straighter, legs still straddled to either side of the chair. He eyed Obi-Wan’s erection.

“We should do something about that,” he remarked, reaching to close a hand around Obi-Wan’s cock and making the younger man hiss with pleasure.

“Do you have something in mind?” he managed to squeeze out as Qui-Gon stroked him at a leisurely pace.

“Oh yes. This chair does give one ideas. Lie down, feet toward me.”

Obi-Wan leaned back on his elbows and unfolded his legs as Qui-Gon got to his feet, still straddling the chair. “There’s lube in the drawer there,” Obi-Wan said, indicating the small table beside it.

“Just what I was looking for.” Tube in hand, Qui-Gon spread the younger man’s legs a bit and sat between them, muscular legs overlaying Obi-Wan’s on either side of the chair. Squeezing out some of the lube into his palm, he stroked it onto Obi-Wan’s cock, then stood again and made the briefest of preparations to himself, hands trembling visibly. “Move back, so your head hangs off the end there,” Qui-Gon ordered. Heart thudding in anticipation, Obi-Wan complied. As the blood rushed into his brain, he felt his master’s hand grasp his cock and press the head against his opening. Obi-Wan shuddered and looked up, watching Qui-Gon slowly lower himself over his groin until he had taken all of Obi-Wan’s cock in, then just as slowly raise himself again until only the crown was gripped inside the tight inner ring of muscles. He squatted there for a moment, hands resting on his own straining thighs, head thrown back, long silver-streaked hair cascading down his back, panting harshly before descending again. The vision of his master fucking himself, coupled with those sensations, was almost too much: too hot, too tight, too erotic, too much stimulation. Obi-Wan’s limbs went weak and he let his head drop again. “Oh Qui,” he moaned, otherwise inarticulate.

“For eighty-three days I’ve wanted to feel you inside me,” his master growled, body rising and falling as he impaled himself on Obi-Wan’s cock. “I’ve wanted to ride you, to have you fill me, to have you _fuck_ me with that ridiculously big cock of yours.” The rhythm picked up and blood pounded as much in Obi-Wan’s head as in his cock, enveloped as it was in the hot, tight channel of his lover’s body. The pressure built in his head and his balls as Qui-Gon clamped his muscles around his cock. Obi-Wan’s hands found the iron-corded thighs of the man above him and closed on them in desperation, holding on as though he were about to fall over a long drop. He felt as if he might be.

Then the angle changed and Qui-Gon trembled over him, emitting harsh breaths and sounds that could have indicated pain but in this context meant his lover was enjoying the small but vivid shocks of having his prostate stroked. Obi-Wan reached for Qui-Gon’s cock but had his hands grasped and then flung out to his sides so his arms were wide open across the chair. That brought another rush of blood to his head, filling it with roaring and lights. He was aching to come now, his balls drawn up tightly against his cock, painfully battered each time Qui-Gon impaled himself. Just a little more, a little harder—

He bucked his hips up against the weight on him, driving himself deeper into the hot channel, grunting with each thrust, the grunts turning to cries and then to a long howl as he felt himself squeezed and stroked by Qui-Gon’s body. A little more, a little harder— He struggled for purchase and was held down, thrashing wildly as he came, and then collapsing back onto the chair, gasping like a landed fish.

When he looked up again, Qui-Gon was leaning over him, smiling in a manner both sultry and fiendish, body pulsing deliberately around Obi-Wan’s still-hard cock. “Did you get what you wanted?” he croaked, sounding more like a prisoner after torture than a sated lover, but feeling a bit like both. He’d come, he realized, but he hadn’t ejaculated, and that was Qui-Gon’s doing. He’d had been known to keep them both going half the night with his little tricks. For just a moment, Obi-Wan was a little worried about what he’d started.

“Not enough of it,” Qui-Gon purred. “I want you to fuck me now. Hard . . . and fast.”

This time it was Qui-Gon who leaned back and swung his legs up, draping them wantonly over the arms of the chair, resting most of his weight on the back of the chair and Obi-Wan’s pelvis, where they were still connected.

“I like the view,” Obi-Wan remarked, now up on his elbows and still catching his breath.  Smiling, Qui-Gon reached down and stroked himself slowly. Obi-Wan watched his cock engorge again until it lay stiffly against his belly once more, shaft flushed a deep red while the glistening head was nearly purple. The size of it never ceased to amaze Obi-Wan. His own might be a bit out of proportion to the rest of him, but Qui-Gon’s was perfectly in proportion, and still larger. “Gods you’re beautiful, Qui,” the younger man breathed in a reverent voice, gently hefting the heavy ball sac. Qui-Gon hissed and squirmed at his touch. “All of you. Sometimes I want you so badly I can hardly stand it. Do you know that?”

Qui-Gon reached down for Obi-Wan’s hands and pulled him upright until his feet were flat on the floor on either side of the chair and then raised his own legs to Obi-Wan’s shoulders. It was a bit more of a spread for him to straddle the chair than it had been for his master, but still not uncomfortable. “I know how lucky I am to have a beautiful young lover who desires me that much,” Qui-Gon said softly, as Obi-Wan stroked his hands up and down the legs resting against him. “I know how lucky I am to have you. But it never hurts to be reminded—ow!”

Obi-Wan nipped the tender skin at the back of his knee and leaned forward on the arms of the chair, swinging his legs up behind him. The movement drove him deeper into his lover as Qui-Gon was bent nearly double beneath him. Qui-Gon’s legs slid from his shoulders to rest against the inside of his elbows as Obi-Wan brought himself up until he was balanced on his knees and hands, groin pressed tightly against Qui-Gon’s ass. “I’ll remind you. I’ll fuck you into the chair, old man.” Then he started to thrust, slowly at first, then with more speed and force, building what became a fast, punishing rhythm.

Qui-Gon, unable to move much beneath his lover, gave himself over to Obi-Wan’s enthusiasm, his hands gripped around the younger man’s wrists. They quickly found the angle that stroked over Qui-Gon’s prostate and sent tremors through his body. Each one built on the one before as they overlapped, until Qui-Gon was trembling constantly like an addict. Obi-Wan watched his lover’s face slacken with the sensations coursing through him, care lines smoothing out as pleasure infused it, recent memories falling away into the euphoria of the moment. Each tremor wrung out a deep, wordless moan, each louder than the last, a sound that could not be anything but ecstasy. “Beautiful,” Obi-Wan gasped, thrusting harder. “So—beautiful!”

Lost in the moment, Qui-Gon reached for his cock, wanting to match the rhythm they had set up. Obi-Wan let him, but as they both began to tumble over the precipice of orgasm, Obi-Wan returned Qui-Gon’s earlier favor, compressing the spot between his anus and scrotum, so only Obi-Wan spent him himself inside his lover. He thrust hard into Qui-Gon once, twice, the third time quivering and crying out, emptying himself, hips rocking convulsively. Qui-Gon’s muscles spasmed around him as he shuddered himself, clutching at Obi-Wan’s ass. They shared the sensations of coming together, but Qui-Gon’s erection remained.

Left with barely energy enough to untangle themselves, they lay together for several long minutes, Obi-Wan collapsed atop his lover, whose legs were now entwined with his own. Qui-Gon stroked slowly up and down Obi-Wan’s back, fingers feather-light against his skin, while he nestled against the older man, listening contentedly to his heart calming in the broad chest. When their breathing quieted, Obi-Wan propped himself up and kissed Qui-Gon with a lazy tenderness, sliding their groins together lubriciously.

“Mmm, I presume you were saving this for something particular,” Qui-Gon said when they broke for air after several leisurely minutes of nibbling and tasting and rubbing against one another.

“Yes, I was. I’d like a nice long, slow, comfortable fuck, and a bath, and perhaps another glass of wine, and a bit of conversation before we cuddle up, and then I’d like to wake up next to you in the morning and start all over again.”

“Little gods! You’re a demanding brat,” Qui-Gon exclaimed in mock horror.

“It’s been 83 days, _iji aijinn_ , and I’ve missed you,” he said plaintively.

“I’ll be happy to comply, my love.”

“Shall we take it to bed?”

“Not for my sake. I find I’m rather enjoying the novel location.”

Obi-Wan grinned. “Well, considering this is the only horizontal surface we hadn’t yet christened—”

“—apart from the stove.”

“—apart from the stove—I’m not surprised. I rather thought you might warm up to this chair.”

“Well, it doesn’t squeak and seems to be holding up well so far,” Qui-Gon replied drolly.

Obi-Wan laughed and kissed him again as Qui-Gon ran his hands down his back, fingers circling in the spot above the split in his buttocks. Obi-Wan sighed and went suddenly boneless against him, mesmerized. “That just paralyzes me,” he murmured, sounding drugged.

“It does, doesn’t it? And it never ceases to amaze me. It’s such a small thing to do for you.”

“And only your touch that does it,” Obi-Wan murmured, hips rocking. “Is this the start of my long, slow fuck?”

“Would you like it to be?”

“Oh yes,” Obi-Wan sighed.

“Then consider it so, since you were so obliging. Where’s the lube gotten to?”

“On the table, I think. Don’t stop.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “I won’t.”

Once again, Obi-Wan settled against him, listening to his lover’s calm heart and reveling in the touch of those calloused fingers against his skin. A few moments later, another slipped between his cheeks and began stroking slickly over the puckered muscle there. The sensation was electrifying. It had been so long since he’d been touched there that it was almost a brand new experience. Qui-Gon stroked over it lightly then circled around it, tracing the shape, and finally eased his fingertip in, turning and pressing gently outward while his other hand still circled the spot above his tailbone. Warmth spread through his pelvis and up his spine.

Just when he was ready for more, the finger pressed farther inward and found his sweet spot, sending a tingling rush up his spine and into his cock. He moaned quietly and began to rock his hips again. “More, Qui,” he murmured.

The single digit withdrew to be replaced a moment later by two, one penetrating him again and the other brushing over his perineum for a short while before pressing carefully inward beside the first, again just to the first knuckle, barely beyond the second ring of muscles. It was like being prepared for the very first time, though he didn’t really need to take it this slow now, even after a long separation. He hadn’t been a tense little virgin for a very long time. Still, it was pleasurable and built the anticipation, and Qui-Gon seemed to enjoy doing it.

After squeezing a little more lube onto his fingers, Qui-Gon pressed inward, then went back to circling above his tailbone with his other hand. The two slick fingers turned inside him, again brushing over his prostate and gently scissoring wider, stretching him slowly and carefully and sending sparks shooting across his eyelids occasionally and making his heart pound erratically. His hips rocked a little harder against the penetration, wanting more. “I love doing this for you,” Qui-Gon murmured in his ear. “I love to watch you get excited in slow stages like this. I love how silky and hot the flesh inside you is. I love the helpless noises you make when you’re aroused.”

Qui-Gon’s words and husky tone were almost unbearably erotic. Obi-Wan whimpered in response and rubbed against the muscular body beneath him, wanting friction of some kind against his slowly hardening cock. The two thick, blunt fingers inside him withdrew a little and then there were three pressing into him, slowly and steadily, past the second ring, up to the second knuckle and then the third, raking hard across his prostate. Obi-Wan cried out and convulsed at the hot shock that spread through his body. “More!” he panted. “More, Qui!”

“Greedy boy. You wanted a long slow fuck and that’s what you’re going to get.”

“You’re torturing me,” he moaned, shivering, hands clenched around the cushions

“Yes, I am. And you love it.”

The fingers moved a little faster now, pushing inside him deeper and harder, slick and warm, callouses sliding across the little gland, setting off hard tremors all over him and pulling astonished noises out of him. Qui-Gon breathed softly against his neck, rubbing their beards together, and continued to circle the spot over his tailbone with one hand, the other fucking him carefully with three fingers. Finally, the first hand left his back and slid down between his cheeks, picking up some of the lube along the way. Two more fingers slid into him and one slid out, leaving two from each hand inside him following the contours of the muscle, gently opening him.

“Sit up, over me,” Qui-Gon urged him

Limbs trembling, Obi-Wan did as he was told, Qui-Gon still gripping his ass, holding him open. Rising a little, Obi-Wan reached behind himself and grasped Qui-Gon cock, slicking it with more lube and moving back against it. Guided by Qui-Gon’s fingers holding him open, the thick shaft slid inside smoothly, filling Obi-Wan more than anything but a full hand could. He pressed back onto it, impaling himself, feeling it slide in and in and in until it seemed impossible he could take it all. There was still more before he felt Qui-Gon’s tight ball sac nestled against his ass. His pelvis felt hot and tumid, as though it were filled with tumbling, glowing coals.

“Oh gods Qui,” he moaned and sank back on his elbows, shaking, between Qui-Gon’s knees. He drew his own up, changing the angle a little and Qui-Gon mirrored him to give himself leverage. Then he rocked upward, pushing himself deeper into the tight channel of Obi-Wan’s body, lifting him a little. A few more tries and they found the rhythm at a slow and easy pace Qui-Gon set. As Qui-Gon said, Obi-Wan heard himself making helpless little noises now, mewling, moaning, whimpering as Qui-Gon moved slowly inside him, his cock churning in Obi-Wan’s pelvis, drawing out and pushing in. Each movement stretched and stimulated him a little more, until the ring of muscle was throbbing and his cock had come up hard against his belly, painting a wet swath across it. He closed his hand around it, stroking in time with the rhythm Qui-Gon had set, feeling the pressure building in him, lost in it.

They rocked together for what felt like a long time before Qui-Gon sat up and hooked Obi-Wan’s knees over his elbows, lowering his weight onto and folding the younger man over beneath him. Obi-Wan gasped at the shift in angle, the new depth of penetration and Qui-Gon waited a moment for him to adjust before starting to move again. Then he drew himself out until only the crown remained and stroked in shallowly nine times before plunging in hard and fast, raking over the sweet spot. Obi-Wan cried out like he’d been stabbed and clutched Qui-Gon’s shoulders bruisingly. Eight more slow, shallow strokes followed and one deep quick lunge, then seven short strokes and two deep and Obi-Wan was bucking up against his lover, fingers dug into his muscles.

“Qui! I can’t—oh gods! I can’t take it! I can’t wait! Fuck me hard! It’s so good— I need to come!” he panted.

“You said you wanted a long, slow fuck, love. That’s what I’m giving you,” Qui-Gon growled, and kept to his rhythm, holding Obi-Wan down. It was deliciously, painfully slow, the hard deep strokes coming in greater quantity and more quickly as Qui-Gon’s control began to slip. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he’d make it through the last set of long deep punishing strokes and he didn’t, quite, the fifth one in the final set pushing him over the edge shouting as Qui-Gon pounded into him over and over, both of them coming in a hot, wet rush, Qui-Gon snarling and growling, Obi-Wan thrashing and screaming obscenities that petered off into breathy little sobbing _ohs_.

Once again, they barely disentangled and lay together as if stunned, catching their breath, Obi-Wan still groaning a little, and eventually trying to squirm out from under his heavy blanket of sleepy Jedi master. Qui-Gon wasn’t having any of it. Instead, he pinned the younger man down and lazily began licking the cum off his belly, which quickly turned to leisurely love bites and nips at tender spots and had Obi-Wan squirming more desperately.

“Tickles!” he protested, laughing and writhing. “Stop it, Qui. You’re going to kill me.”

“Not very hardy are you? I never knew you were such a delicate flower, my love.”

“Only after I’ve been pounded half to death.”

“By the same old man you boasted you’d fuck into the chair, I believe.”

“All right, I concede. You’ve proven yourself my master once again, _iji aijinn_.” He cupped the bearded face between his hands and brushed his lips lightly across Qui-Gon’s “My master in all things, always.”

“In all but furnishings, at least. There, I must bow to your superior taste.” He gave Obi-Wan’s skin another long lick. “Although I must say that you taste superior in other ways as well. And some parts of you taste superior to others,” he added with a glint in his eye, then covered Obi-Wan’s mouth with his own.

 

They eventually repaired to the fresher together, where they enjoyed a long soak and another glass of wine, and then to bed, where they settled into each others arms and sleep with nearly equal timing.

The day that followed was the usual post-mission mix of catching up on reports, news, friendships, and gossip, as well as a few hours in the salles or workouts and errands in and out of temple. The two of them lunched together in the refectory, but otherwise went separate ways until evening. Obi-Wan returned home as dusk was falling, carrying several parcels of special ingredients from the local market district since they were both going to be in temple for a time. Putting down the bags, he hung up the civilian jacket he was wearing and toed off his boots, then turned to pick up his packages again and stopped dead.

“Qui,” he said.

“In here,” came the reply from their bedroom.

Packages forgotten, Obi-Wan followed the sound of Qui-Gon’s voice to its source. “Where’s the chair g—oh. What’s it doing in here? Where’s the bench gone? And why is there one just like your old chair in the common room?”

Qui-Gon smiled and sprawled back into the chair. “I’ve been looking at this thing all day, Obi-Wan. As you said, it has a way of inspiring ideas.” He was obviously hot out of the fresher, wearing the deep blue silk robe Obi-Wan had given him, his hair damp and loosely braided down his back. “And frankly, every time I looked at it, all I could think of was what we did in it last night. It gave me a raging hard-on all day.” Taking the tie out of his hair, he began unwinding it and looked up at Obi-Wan. “I decided I couldn’t bear to share it with anyone but you.”

“The chair or your hard-on?” Obi-Wan said with amusement.

“Both,” Qui-Gon replied, untying his robe.


End file.
